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Iceland July 08
Icelandic tails of a city armadillo …
Day one felt like I had died and gone to hell- power walking every morning from Moorgate tube station to 125 London Wall, in my high heels, trying to make it on time for the daily 8am morning meeting, turned out not to be adequate training for walking 7 to 1o hours a day, with 20 kg on my back, up and down mountains through snow, ice, lava sand, mud, rock, mousse and various other squishy and ankle-unfriendly terrains. By the time we reached our first long stretch of snow and I sank deeper and deeper into the freezing heavy greyish slush, I could not think of a worst way to spend my holidays- that was before learning there was no electricity in the huts meaning I wouldn’t be able to recharge my camera battery for the duration of the trip (unfortunate considering that 10 minutes into the trek, the thought of the great pictures I would surely take was more or less the ONLY thing keeping me going!)
A couple of hours into the trip, I was known as the “armadillo” in reference to the bag I carried- sitting like a giant shell on my back- the bag, weighing just under 2/5th of my body weight, was bigger than me: all you could see when walking behind me was two little legs and two little arms sticking out….
The sight of my first geyser lifted my spirits a little until I realized it was the source of the overwhelming pungent eau-de-rotten-egg fragrance which had been puzzling my nostrils for the last couple of hours- a smell which, I was soon to find out, also fragranced the local water; thankfully the overbearing plastic taste the “bladders” gave the water somewhat nuanced the flavour (for those unfamiliar with the wonderful world of hiking, a “bladder” is a plastic pouch with a long tube allowing hikers to drink on the move- aside from the obvious advantage of not having to take a water bottle in and out of one’s backpack, the bladder also provides some often overlooked nutritional benefits: with every sip comes the dirt and grind which invariably sticks to the mouthpiece!).
Upon reaching the first hut, I found myself thinking: “if I leave my charger and sun glasses behind (clearly superfluous items I now realised) and eat all the food I packed, my bag will be a few kilos lighter and I may make it through day 2” (making it through to day 6 was not a possibility I envisaged at this point). Having tasted my first gourmet dehydrated expedition meal, I of course understood that leaving the food behind- rather than indulging in it- would perhaps be a better option: I defy anyone to eat reconstituted spaghetti bolognaise & chocolate mousse and not think of the first time one threw up repeatedly after a night out.
After a “night”’s sleep (of course night does not fall in summer in Iceland- which is why curtains are clearly not a necessity but candles, apparently, are- unless the warden mistakenly allocated us the honeymoon suite which slept a mere 16 people) we woke up to find it was snowing outside- yaye! And so- having eaten reconstituted beef hot pot or cereals with cheese water (powdered skimmed milk) in my case for breakfast- we set off, showerless, into the snow.
Pain, swearing and bantering gave rhythm to the days that followed- few memorable events: a few glacier rivers to wade here and there in a variety of climatic condition (dipping one’s feet into ice water is as close to an electric shock as I wish to experience… bearable when its sunny, less so when its pouring down with rain)… a few smelly, snoring or simply out-of-this-world-weird people encountered in the huts…dozen of kilometres of rather unscenic lava sand deserts…
On the penultimate day we climbed over 1000 m to reach the most special hut of all- a tiny little perched cabin which we thought, given its size, we’d surely be the only ones sleeping in…misjudgement on our part: turned out there were already 17 people by the time we arrived- 8 single bonk beds sleeping 2 each, one single bed and a “mezzanine” fitting a double mattress for the 5 of us (we’d lost one group member by then!)….there was no running water, meaning we had to fetch snow outside and boil it to reconstitute our meals- unfortunately the lava dust mixed into the snow proved a challenge for a few stomachs…many had to run to the hut’s most enigmatic room- it contained two toilets side by side (i.e.: no partition) lined with giant bin bags… on the lids, an inscription read “don’t urinate in buckets”…at which point, having had time to ponder over whether communal toileting had been an experience which had been missing from their lives thus far, people noticed the triangular-shaped urinal on the opposite wall- now… as a girl this raised many metaphysical questions: “how do I tackle it? Do I go frontwards? Backwards? Side ways?... “Wait, I can’t reach!”… “Ha! That is what that little bench is probably for!”- I adopted a “reverse park” strategy mainly because it meant I could ignore the window behind me which gave passer by (few I admit in a place you have to walk 5 days to reach) an insight into the life inside this magical place as they walked past…
We slept like sardines and woke up to see a raging storm outside- blizzard, fog, wind, torrential rain- no climatic conditions was to deter us from leaving this place and we set off in these idyllic conditions- the weather did not improve and we walked for a good 6 hours in the pissing rain to reach the biggest village we would come across our trip- a whole 25 inhabitants! We stopped for lunch in the supermarket-restaurant-cinema-town-hall-bingo-disco multi complex facility where we enjoyed the world’ s most expensive burger and chips- the local speciality!
The next day we took a bus back to Reykjavik- don’t ask me about Reykjavik, just don’t!
And that is all I have to say about Iceland…
Now back to normal life, I smile at the little things in life: the proximity of indoor partitioned toilets in the office, the taste of London’s bleached water…
Reflecting on our adventures through Iceland of course, I smile: there were many funny moments & endless bantering- but it really was very demanding on both our bodies and mind (I still have bruises around my waste and shoulders two weeks after returning!)- by all means go to Iceland but not with 20kg on your back! I am now ready for club med!
Hope the pictures are somewhat more uplifting than the tails I narrate- I thought you should know what I endured to take them…although come to think of it almost ALL the pictures opposite were taken when I had left my bag behind and floated (yes floated!) around the huts.
Day one felt like I had died and gone to hell- power walking every morning from Moorgate tube station to 125 London Wall, in my high heels, trying to make it on time for the daily 8am morning meeting, turned out not to be adequate training for walking 7 to 1o hours a day, with 20 kg on my back, up and down mountains through snow, ice, lava sand, mud, rock, mousse and various other squishy and ankle-unfriendly terrains. By the time we reached our first long stretch of snow and I sank deeper and deeper into the freezing heavy greyish slush, I could not think of a worst way to spend my holidays- that was before learning there was no electricity in the huts meaning I wouldn’t be able to recharge my camera battery for the duration of the trip (unfortunate considering that 10 minutes into the trek, the thought of the great pictures I would surely take was more or less the ONLY thing keeping me going!)
A couple of hours into the trip, I was known as the “armadillo” in reference to the bag I carried- sitting like a giant shell on my back- the bag, weighing just under 2/5th of my body weight, was bigger than me: all you could see when walking behind me was two little legs and two little arms sticking out….
The sight of my first geyser lifted my spirits a little until I realized it was the source of the overwhelming pungent eau-de-rotten-egg fragrance which had been puzzling my nostrils for the last couple of hours- a smell which, I was soon to find out, also fragranced the local water; thankfully the overbearing plastic taste the “bladders” gave the water somewhat nuanced the flavour (for those unfamiliar with the wonderful world of hiking, a “bladder” is a plastic pouch with a long tube allowing hikers to drink on the move- aside from the obvious advantage of not having to take a water bottle in and out of one’s backpack, the bladder also provides some often overlooked nutritional benefits: with every sip comes the dirt and grind which invariably sticks to the mouthpiece!).
Upon reaching the first hut, I found myself thinking: “if I leave my charger and sun glasses behind (clearly superfluous items I now realised) and eat all the food I packed, my bag will be a few kilos lighter and I may make it through day 2” (making it through to day 6 was not a possibility I envisaged at this point). Having tasted my first gourmet dehydrated expedition meal, I of course understood that leaving the food behind- rather than indulging in it- would perhaps be a better option: I defy anyone to eat reconstituted spaghetti bolognaise & chocolate mousse and not think of the first time one threw up repeatedly after a night out.
After a “night”’s sleep (of course night does not fall in summer in Iceland- which is why curtains are clearly not a necessity but candles, apparently, are- unless the warden mistakenly allocated us the honeymoon suite which slept a mere 16 people) we woke up to find it was snowing outside- yaye! And so- having eaten reconstituted beef hot pot or cereals with cheese water (powdered skimmed milk) in my case for breakfast- we set off, showerless, into the snow.
Pain, swearing and bantering gave rhythm to the days that followed- few memorable events: a few glacier rivers to wade here and there in a variety of climatic condition (dipping one’s feet into ice water is as close to an electric shock as I wish to experience… bearable when its sunny, less so when its pouring down with rain)… a few smelly, snoring or simply out-of-this-world-weird people encountered in the huts…dozen of kilometres of rather unscenic lava sand deserts…
On the penultimate day we climbed over 1000 m to reach the most special hut of all- a tiny little perched cabin which we thought, given its size, we’d surely be the only ones sleeping in…misjudgement on our part: turned out there were already 17 people by the time we arrived- 8 single bonk beds sleeping 2 each, one single bed and a “mezzanine” fitting a double mattress for the 5 of us (we’d lost one group member by then!)….there was no running water, meaning we had to fetch snow outside and boil it to reconstitute our meals- unfortunately the lava dust mixed into the snow proved a challenge for a few stomachs…many had to run to the hut’s most enigmatic room- it contained two toilets side by side (i.e.: no partition) lined with giant bin bags… on the lids, an inscription read “don’t urinate in buckets”…at which point, having had time to ponder over whether communal toileting had been an experience which had been missing from their lives thus far, people noticed the triangular-shaped urinal on the opposite wall- now… as a girl this raised many metaphysical questions: “how do I tackle it? Do I go frontwards? Backwards? Side ways?... “Wait, I can’t reach!”… “Ha! That is what that little bench is probably for!”- I adopted a “reverse park” strategy mainly because it meant I could ignore the window behind me which gave passer by (few I admit in a place you have to walk 5 days to reach) an insight into the life inside this magical place as they walked past…
We slept like sardines and woke up to see a raging storm outside- blizzard, fog, wind, torrential rain- no climatic conditions was to deter us from leaving this place and we set off in these idyllic conditions- the weather did not improve and we walked for a good 6 hours in the pissing rain to reach the biggest village we would come across our trip- a whole 25 inhabitants! We stopped for lunch in the supermarket-restaurant-cinema-town-hall-bingo-disco multi complex facility where we enjoyed the world’ s most expensive burger and chips- the local speciality!
The next day we took a bus back to Reykjavik- don’t ask me about Reykjavik, just don’t!
And that is all I have to say about Iceland…
Now back to normal life, I smile at the little things in life: the proximity of indoor partitioned toilets in the office, the taste of London’s bleached water…
Reflecting on our adventures through Iceland of course, I smile: there were many funny moments & endless bantering- but it really was very demanding on both our bodies and mind (I still have bruises around my waste and shoulders two weeks after returning!)- by all means go to Iceland but not with 20kg on your back! I am now ready for club med!
Hope the pictures are somewhat more uplifting than the tails I narrate- I thought you should know what I endured to take them…although come to think of it almost ALL the pictures opposite were taken when I had left my bag behind and floated (yes floated!) around the huts.